Page 44 of I Think Olive You

“I came here to prove I was worthy of something, capable of more. But he’s not around to see it and I’m not sure he’d care or approve.”

“What a mess, huh? The pair of us.”

We both chuckle, pain lancing through the mirth. God, if I could only be beside her right now so I could pull her into my arms. As soon as we leave here it’ll be back to business.

“Tell me more about your dream for the grove. You’ve mentioned it but I love hearing how excited you get about it.”

“You know a lot of it already. A teaching program, a kickstarter for small female-owned farms and businesses.” She says it so quietly I can barely hear it but when I do it makes sense. Giuliana wants to provide what she was deprived of: resources, respect, and a chance to forge something independent of the men who came before.

“Female farming girlboss.” It sounds stupid as soon as I say it but she laughs, a light bell-like sound. The way it makes me feel curls around my stomach like a snake—traitorous and too slippery to catch.

“It won’t bring in much money. That’s why I’m trying to find a way to make the grove a success first. No point in me attempting to teach people when I can’t even do it myself, but that would be the goal. To provide an opportunity for people like me and young girls like Chiara. Not that I think she has an interest but I want to give her the option.”

“It makes sense, and I think it’s a wonderful idea. You could change someone’s life with a program like that. I’ll do anything in my power to help you see it through, I promise.”

“It’s not your problem, Matteo. You’re only here for another month or so at the most. There’s no obligation or pressure.”

She doesn’t need you. You have nothing of merit to provide. You’ll only get in the way.

I shove it all aside. This isn’t the time.

“Maybe I want there to be. Maybe if I had my way I’d stay. But I understand and I won’t push. Please know I’m here for you, okay? No strings. Just a friend who cares.”

“I appreciate it, and what you tried to do tonight, as idiotic as it was. You have a kind heart and I’m glad to call you a friend.”

I let the words wash over me. It’s the closest I’ll get to feeling good about myself and feeling okay about my lie. Body aching in more ways than one, at this point even holding her hand in the dark would be exquisite. But we’ve made it clear we’re just friends. I’m kicking myself for not kissing her quick enough this evening. Fucking Kelsey.

There might never be a chance again. One month and I lose it all. I have one month to help her get stuff set up before Alan or Umberto step in. I can only hope it will be enough. Sleep swallows me and pulls me another day closer to my life as I know it changing forever.

Why does the bed always feel best when I have to leave it? Giuliana’s hands shook me awake multiple times last night but our brief conversations never strayed back to that vulnerable place. Now, I’m left with the fuzzy tired feeling of interrupted sleep and the dread that returning to reality brings.

We don our clothes from the night before. A headache splits my skull from the fall and not a hangover for once. The ring still rests around Giuliana’s finger and something fizzes inside of me to know she’s slept with it on. We pack our stuff into my backpack and tidy the room, ready for checkout by ten. No words are exchanged except for a soft good morning and stolen glances.

Francesca greets us both with a smile and congratulations before setting us up for the tour. The space has been transformed back to normal, wedding tables and chairs a hazy memory from last night. The ballroom is now a sitting room with little groupings of armchairs and end tables. It feels kind of like a hotel lobby—a place to enjoy a coffee as you stare out at the grove.

It’s luck, or serendipity, that the owner decides to do the tour for us.

“We really don’t want to put you out!” Giuliana insists but the older man shrugs us off.

His black hair is shot through with silver at the temples—distinguished; exactly the kind of man you’d picture owning a grove or a vineyard, capable and smooth. When we shake hands, calluses brush against my palm and I know he’s more than just a paper-pusher. Like Giuliana, he’s involved. He works hard.

The grove is bathed in warm midmorning sunshine, and I wish we were lounging by a pool or something. When all this is over and I get back to New York—whatever I get back to—I really need to take some time to just be. I’ve been running from myself for so long I don’t know how to exist in a space for the sake of it. It might be time to figure it out soon.

The owner—Claudio—tells us about how the grove was passed down from generation to generation, son to son. His story is similar to Giuliana’s—this is still a family business, one that pivoted when times got harder. The villa has been expanded on and upgraded through the years and about five years ago he made the choice to open it up as a boutique hotel and wedding venue to supplement their income.

“Well, it’s beautiful and you’ve done a fantastic job!”

“It wasn’t easy. It still isn’t, but seeing people enjoy the home I grew up in and the land that’s part of my blood is all worth it.” Claudio’s pride is evident and the way he talks about it sounds so much like Giuliana that I can’t help but smile.

We walk some more of the grove and stop near the house to try the olive oils and vinegars they’ve produced. Bread and oil. So simple, yet the livelihood of so many people—the legacy they get to leave.

Giuliana thanks him for his time, another genuine handshake shared between us and Claudio, and then it’s time to head back to Abundantia and the work awaiting us there. When we greet Francesca, she slips us a business card to consider the hotel for the wedding or even a honeymoon location and I chuckle. Ballsy. Kind. She’s been lovely throughout this experience.

Giuliana and I settle onto the Vespa and the wheels crunch over gravel as we head back to the main road. The drive takes less time than it did before, or I’m just so reluctant for it to end I wish time would stand still. Pulling up to the house, we stand on shaky legs. Giuliana considers me for a moment, something akin to regret on her face.

“Matteo,” she says on a sigh and I know it’s back to business.

“I know.”

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